


Ginger and Lily

by moonblossom



Series: Ink and Honour [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, BDSM, Cropping, F/F, Femslash, Regency Era, minor breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:39:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonblossom/pseuds/moonblossom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harriet is settling in very well at Miss Adler's Ladies Disciplinary Home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ginger and Lily

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the bulk of the events in Ink and Honour. If you are not keen on reading epistolary fics, you just need to know that it's a regency-era AU and Harriet Watson has been kicked out of a girls' boarding home and sent to Miss Adler's Ladies Disciplinary Home as a "last-chance" measure, but she's fitting in here much better.
> 
> Thanks to nanners and Urban for looking this over, and thanks to everyone ever for some massive hand-holding and encouragement for helping me fight through the block this caused. <3

Harriet folded the note over in her hands, fingers running over the heavy texture of the paper.

_Come to the upstairs discipline room at lights-out._

There was no name, but Miss Adler's handwriting - tidy, feminine, but with a sharp and demanding slant - was immediately recognisable. Lord knew Harriet had seen enough of these notes lately to be familiar with it. Already, she could feel the heavy warmth of desire settling between her legs. Surely there was something wrong with her, to enjoy these supposed "punishments" so much. And yet, Miss Adler seemed to enjoy them just as much as Harriet, if not more so.

Harriet had been at Miss Adler’s Disciplinary Home for several weeks now, and had racked up more punishments than anyone else in that time. She was a fair bit older than most of the other girls, but yet rather than make her feel ostracised, they had welcomed her. They looked to her as an inspiration, which was admittedly not ideal. However, despite the disciplinary sessions - or perhaps because of them - this place felt more like a home than The Lilacs ever had.

Her room here was small, but decently furnished. She studied herself in the small mirror hanging in the corner and splashed a bit of water from the washbasin onto her cheeks, attempting to calm the spots of high colour along her cheeks, but it accomplished little. Shivering slightly, she undressed down to her shift and inspected it quickly. She knew it wouldn't be on for long, and she'd stopped wearing her over-dresses to her private lessons, but Miss Adler appreciated a bit of effort and pride in the appearance of her girls. The shift's hem was dusty and there was a thin yellowing of sweat where her waistband had dug in, so she stepped out of it and slid into a new one. A soft sigh escaped her lips as the soft, gently worn linen brushed over the sensitised skin of her nipples and tickled her hips as it drifted down over her body.

Thus attired, she prodded despondently at her hair. In a fit of pique she'd chopped the bulk of it off back at the Lilacs. She had been hoping for a daring, slightly scandalous bob of curls, a bit like Lady Caroline Lamb, but with Harriet's square face and limp ginger locks it had ended up looking severe and unkempt. She scowled at herself in the mirror, irritated that she was behaving like some flighty young woman. She was due for a cropping, not a nauseating afternoon date in which some insufferable dandy would row her across a pond.

And yet, the cropping, not to mention the woman administering it, seemed so much more exciting to Harriet than any young man had in all her nearly thirty years. As her mind wandered to the last punishment she'd received - that time for attempting to smuggle gin into the house - the thrumming heat in her cunt intensified. 

Nothing for it, she would have to calm herself down. She was tempted to slip her fingers into the pooling moisture deep within her and bring herself to the brink right then and there, but she knew Miss Adler would be able to read it in her face, in her posture. Nothing escaped Miss Adler. It was uncanny, and would have been unpleasant if Harriet hadn't found it so arousing, being flayed open and picked down to her bare bones with Miss Adler's mere words. The woman had even given her a slim volume of the collected works of Sappho! And yet, Miss Adler kept all of Harriet's secrets to herself, instead of shaming her or throwing her out. Harriet felt a kinship with her, even if it had never been openly acknowledged.

And if that meant she had started acting out specifically in the hopes of a more severe private punishment, well, Harriet would never admit to anything.

She was knocked out of her reverie as she heard the familiar knocking on each girl's door, indicating lights-out. She stepped out into the hall and Miss Adler's assistant spun on her heels, ready to reprimand whoever was attempting to sneak out of her room, when her eyes landed on Harriet.

"Another one, Harriet?" Miss Kate sighed theatrically and gestured to the staircase heading to the upstairs discipline room as Harriet held up the paper missive from Miss Adler. A knowing, sultry smile played across Miss Kate's lips. "If I didn't know better, I would say you were acting out intentionally." Boldly, Harriet smirked back at her and marched up the stairs.

The room was not what Harriet had expected at all when they had used the terms "severe" and "physical discipline" to describe Miss Adler's. She had imagined a dark, dingy room with rusty metal and splintering wood. Of being deprived food for acting out. Of a bitter, ugly old crone with a ridiculous nose and missing teeth. She had been shocked when she'd first met Miss Adler, with sparkling eyes and playful stained lips, with her luscious piles of dark curls, pinned immaculately in place.

The room itself was the biggest surprise of all. It was on the very top floor of the house, with large, west-facing windows. In the evenings, when Miss Adler preferred to administer her punishments, the room's lace curtains glowed with the dying light of dusk and fluttered with a soothing breeze. The room had wide plank floors that were soft and smooth under Harriet's bare feet. But most impressive and overwhelming was the bed. It occupied pride of place in the centre of the room, and was a huge presence, impossible to ignore. It was large enough for several girls to have slept in comfortably, and yet Miss Adler never disciplined more than one at a time. It had an ornate metal headboard and footboard, all contrasting solid uprights and sweeping arabesques. Once, in a more inebriated (and poetic) state, Harriet had come to the realisation that the headboard was an excellent metaphor for Miss Adler herself - inviting curves covering a core of solid iron.

Harriet shivered. She attempted to convince herself it was due to the gentle breeze ruffling her thin shift, but she knew better. It was anticipation, heady arousal.

She sat on the edge of the extravagant bed, her toes brushing the floorboards as she fussed with the hem of her shift. Sometimes she was asked to strip to bare skin, sometimes she was asked to keep it on. Miss Adler may have been a lot of things, but predictable was never one of them, and Harriet hated being kept in suspense, but she had learnt well enough to keep her ire to herself.

It wasn't long before the familiar whisper of Miss Adler's slippers in the hall caught Harriet's attention. She sat straighter, spine tingling and thighs trembling in anticipation, feeling a bit like a bowstring drawn taut over some elegant, curved instrument - a cello, perhaps.

The door opened and Miss Adler stepped into the room, and Harriet felt her breath quickening. Her deep chestnut hair had been artfully pinned about her head and her lips rouged in a daring manner, as usual. She smiled at Harriet, scornful and predatory.

"Dear Harriet..." she purred. "Back for another lesson? I daresay you must be doing it on purpose at this point." 

Worried her voice would break and betray her, Harriet kept silent. It was not as though she was doing it intentionally. Not really. The punishments did hurt, there was no denying that - but there was something deeper, something inexplicable, that drove her to act out. She was certain Miss Adler felt it too. She looked up, tongue darting out across her lips, to stare into Miss Adler's clear, sharp eyes. 

Overwhelmed with a familiar combination of shame and arousal, Harriet hung her head and stared at the floor. Miss Adler's slippers were gold brocade with green ribbons, rising tantalisingly up under her long green evening dress.

There was a light pressure under Harriet's jaw, forcing her to look upwards. Miss Adler traced the tip of her riding crop along the soft skin at Harriet's throat, and Harriet felt herself swallowing against the slow, torturous pleasure. Almost unconsciously, she looked up, eyes locking with Miss Adler, who pulled the crop away slightly.

Miss Adler's finger trailed up and down the fine leather braiding of the crop, and Harriet found herself mesmerised. Her nails had been buffed and tinted a deep red hue - far brighter and more scandalous than the popular fashion, but it suited her, complimenting her dramatic lip rouge. Everything about Miss Adler was dramatic.

"Hop down, Harriet. I think I'd like you here today." With one of her manicured fingers, Miss Adler gestured to the bare floor in front of the bed's footboard. Harriet's breath left her in a rush. With anyone else, she would have at least made some pretense of arguing, but somehow here in Miss Adler's room, the safety of giving herself entirely over to the commands of someone else, someone she _trusted_ was more potent than any potable Harriet had ever consumed. She felt dizzy and drunk with freedom and lack of responsibility, and did as she was bid almost without thinking.

She stood, naked and flushed, beneath Miss Adler's sharp gaze, and again, without a moment's cognition, brought her hands up to the footboard and gripped it firmly.

"Oooh, taking initiative are we?" Miss Adler crooned, her voice soft and liquid, curling around Harriet's entire body. "Normally I would be remiss not to nip that in the bud, but I will let it pass for tonight." Harriet closed her eyes and shivered, drinking in the promise behind Miss Adler's words. As she let her head fall forward between her outstretched arms, she felt a delicate, familiar sensation running along her spine - Miss Adler's crop. She could feel the trail of gooseflesh it raised and bit her lip.

The warmth pooling in Harriet's belly was tangible now, her cunt hot and wet. Somewhere in the back of her brain a small voice told her she was dirty, depraved, and should feel ashamed of herself. But it was a very small voice, and it was easily quieted. Harriet whimpered as Miss Adler's crop traced lightly over the delicate curve of her buttocks, and like some form of incognisant animal, she raised her hips and thrust herself backwards, no doubt exposing her glistening sex. Miss Adler chuckled.

"Harriet, dear, it is quite unbecoming to appear so eager for what should be a punishment." Her words were no chastisement, however. The undercurrent of her voice seemed both fond and amused. Or was Harriet merely projecting? 

Her train of thought was quite interrupted as Miss Adler stroked the softly folded tip of the crop into the space between the globes of her arse, taunting her as it continued the slow, inexorable pathway towards her cleft. The crop paused, pulled away from her flesh, and Harriet let out a sharp, wistful moan. She was dripping in earnest now, a trail of that most intimate moisture running down the inside of her thigh. It was clearly obvious to Miss Adler - she caught the glistening trail with the head of the crop and stroked up Harriet's leg, again tauntingly close to her cunt but never quite reaching.

The slow teasing had lit a flame inside of Harriet, she could feel the thrum of her heartbeat in her throat, and more mortifying, in her swollen clitoris. She was certain now it was so engorged it protruded beyond the relative protection of her lips, and she wished fervently Miss Adler would notice and prod it too with the crop. She rocked her hips in a less than subtle invitation.

"Tsk, Harriet. You are not in charge here. Hold still and be silent." Harriet whimpered and twitched, but did her best to hold still. Miss Adler stepped away and smiled at her. "Good girl. Look at me, I give you permission."

Harriet did as she was bid, lifting her her head and peering at her. Miss Adler was undoing the buttons along the side of her evening dress.

"It would not do to get my lovely dress rumpled or stained, do you agree?" Harriet, unsure if this was permission to talk or not, merely nodded. Her cunt throbbed again, desperate and eager. Miss Adler had always remained properly dressed - this was a new development, and she was excited to see where it was leading.

The susurrus of the lush green and gold over-gown sliding to the floor brought Harriet's attention back to the present, as she took in the sight of Miss Adler standing before her in an impossibly sheer linen shift, unconventionally over top of her corset. Harriet sucked hard on her lower lip, willing herself to stay silent. Miss Adler's lips curled into a wicked smile as she reached to her knees, grabbed the hem of her shift, and pulled it over her head, taking several steps to bring herself closer to Harriet's prone form.

Beneath it, she had on an elaborate under-bust corset of cream linen, heavily embroidered with green leaves and deep red lilies. It put her pert breasts on glorious display, her nipples tiny and dark. Harriet longed to take them into her mouth. The green of the vines was the exact shade of the ribbons on Miss Adler's slippers, Harriet noticed intently. The corset was clearly an indulgence, intended to be shown off, and with the shoes to match. Heavy garters hung off the lovely corset, holding up a pair of sheer stockings. Between the corset and the garters, her sex lay in shadow, tantalisingly out of reach. Harriet longed to stretch out her arm and stroke the tuft of softly curled hair, but bit the inside of her cheek and refrained.

"Do you like what you see, Harriet? You may answer."

Suddenly, Harriet's mouth felt dry and swollen. She sucked in a breath and ran her tongue over her teeth before responding, her voice ragged.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Miss Adler."

She smiled again, cat-like and alluring, and gently nudged her shift out of the way with one slipper.

"I think that is enough preamble for today, Harriet." She bent down so her face was impossibly close, her breath warm on Harriet's cheek, and without so much as a warning, grabbed one hard nipple between her well-tended nails and twisted sharply. As the pain and pleasure mingled dizzily in her head, Harriet yelped and Miss Adler pulled back.

"Quiet, darling. You are to make no noise, and no movement. However, if the discomfort or the anguish prove to be too much, you have your signal."

Harriet nodded mutely. Miss Adler had told her once before that if she truly needed to stop, if she genuinely could no longer handle the punishments, she needed merely utter the word _Brambles_. So far, she had never felt the need.

She was glad she had been commanded to remain quiet, as she no longer trusted her voice. It was not as if it would betray her arousal - her sopping cunt had done so already - but she was worried her words might betray her heart. Despite the supposed abuse she suffered at Miss Adler's hand, Harriet never felt as cherished as she did in these moments.

"Seeing as how our last session does not seem to have had an elucidating effect on you, this time we shall have twenty strikes." Harriet shivered and bit down on her tongue as she felt the crop stroking over the flesh of her rear end again. She closed her eyes, letting her head fall between her arms again, and did her best to relax the muscles of her back and thighs.

The first blow came with no warning, and Harriet inhaled sharply but managed to keep quiet. The sting, the rush of blood to the surface of her skin, were nearly instantaneous. The first strike was very nearly always the worst. It was as though her body forgot, every single time.

Two more strikes, one immediately following the other, and a familiar tingle settled over Harriet's skin. The next came lower, nearly at her thighs, and her hips bucked forward with the motion. Her mind was growing blissfully blank now, as she gave herself over to the overwhelming blend of sensations. A flood of moisture surged from between Harriet's lips as the next hit came, and a cry escaped her lips. Suddenly there was a rush of cool air over her reddened skin as Miss Adler stepped away, and Harriet moaned again, desperate and wistful.

"I do believe I requested that you keep silent, Harriet. I was going to reward you after you had accepted your punishment, but now I am uncertain." Harriet stared at the floor, studying Miss Adler's slippers as she crossed the room and sat primly on a small chair in the corner. She made motion to follow, but Miss Adler shook her head.

"You are to remain there, untouched, until you calm down."

Miss Adler sat obscenely, like a man. Her feet were planted firmly on the floor, thighs spread wide to afford Harriet an absolutely lurid view of her cunt. It was pinked and glistening slightly, so very inviting. Miss Adler was clearly enjoying herself. Shuddering, Harriet pulled her eyes away from the inviting tableau and heard her mistress cluck irritably.

"Look at me, Harriet. It is no punishment at all if there is to be no temptation." Tauntingly, she ran one finger into the delicate folds of her vulva, and Harriet stared, transfixed. Her deeply rouged nail was a beacon, a target, and Harriet's mouth watered nearly as much as her twat. Miss Adler's finger had no apparent intent, made no decisive movements, but rather idly stroked her full lips, spread them apart, teasingly circled her own engorged clitoris.

Harriet stared in horror as her arm reached out toward Miss Adler, apparently having developed a consciousness of its own. She snatched it back and gripped the footboard even more firmly, causing her mistress to chuckle.

"Smart girl. It was not my intention to tie you up tonight. Perhaps another night."

It was patently unfair that Miss Adler should sound so composed while fondling herself, Harriet thought rashly. Taking several deep breaths, she counted to thirty in her head as she watched, and then to sixty, and then to one hundred and twenty and so on. Nearly four full minutes passed before Miss Adler, that goddess of grace and mercy, demurely closed her legs and stood up once again.

She stroked her finger across Harriet's lips, and Harriet darted her tongue out, desperately following that musky juice. "Good girl." Miss Adler purred, running her hand through Harriet's damp, mussed locks.

"Do you recall how many strikes we were at?"

Harriet panicked, her heart pounding even more furiously now. Four? Five? Unsure if this was an honest question or a test, she kept her mouth shut. Miss Adler slapped her firmly on the rump with the palm of her hand, then curled her palm, turning the gesture into a strangely affectionate stroke that Harriet found far more comforting than it ought to have been.

"I shall give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you do not recall. Thankfully, one of us was paying attention. You have fifteen to go."

Her heart thudded in her chest, so strong and so fast Harriet worried that she might faint. Surely Miss Adler would not let it come to that. Three strikes, in impossibly quick succession, set the skin of her bottom ablaze, and Harriet bit her cheek so hard she tasted the sharp copper tang of blood. The rush of endorphins through her body had lit a fire within her, and each blow of the crop caused her swollen clitoris to throb, desperate for attention. Surely something deep within Harriet was broken, to respond this way?

She grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, having given up all attempt at counting how many lashes remained. She felt as though she was balanced on a precipice, as if one gentle push in either direction would cause her to come crashing back down to earth, or off into the void of the most intense climax. Gripping the footboard so tightly her knuckles turned white, Harriet's body was wracked with shudders as her brain fought the conflicting sensations of the sharp lash and the wonderful glowing warmth just under her skin.

Abruptly, it was over. She felt Miss Adler's delicate hand on her skin, an impossibly cool salve against the raging fire on her flesh. She could no longer discern each individual strike, they had blurred together into a solid burn from the small of her back to the tops of her thighs. She was trembling, quivering under Miss Adler's palm.

"Shh, shh... You did wonderfully, Harriet. I do believe you have earned your reward after all."

As she murmured soothing and genuine-sounding endearments into Harriet's ear - barely discernable over the thrumming rush of blood - Miss Adler slipped two fingers into Harriet's sopping cunt. Her lips had parted easily, hungrily welcoming the intrusion, and Miss Adler laughed yet again.

"You are lovely, Harriet. So responsive."

As her fingers crooked forward, stroking the front wall of Harriet's most intimate passage, her thumb came around and pressed sharply on the swollen nub of flesh it found, and Harriet could not help it. She cried out, louder than before. The sensation was too exquisite, too desperately needed. She would not last long. 

Miss Adler's other hand came around and gripped Harriet's jaw, pulling her mouth open. She felt something invade her, pressing down on her tongue, and realised it was the handle of the riding crop. She bit down, impossibly grateful that as usual Miss Adler had known exactly what she needed.

She threw her head back as a familiar tingle began in her belly and thighs, radiating towards her cunt as Miss Adler's fingers pounded furiously into her. Harriet rocked her hips with abandon, meeting the hand that fucked her on every stroke. As the climax built inside of her, Miss Adler's hand wrapped lightly around her throat, just enough to stifle the intake of her ragged respirations slightly. Harriet did not panic. She gave in and revelled in it. She trusted Miss Adler with every fibre of her being. Her vision went grey and blurry for a moment and then the tightness coiling in her groin exploded outward. Her entire body went rigid, arching against her mistress as she screamed incoherently, the crop falling to the floor with a clatter that felt impossibly loud, all things considered.

As the haze of the orgasm receded, Harriet trembled. Her muscles had been exhausted, and she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The room, which had felt airy and warm earlier, now felt cold and huge. Miss Adler stroked a lank tendril of hair off her face with obvious affection and gently guided Harriet to the bed, coaxing her to lay down on her stomach. Harriet did so gladly, as she was certain her legs would not support her for much longer.

It came as a great surprise to Harriet to find that her face was covered in the tracks of old and new tears. She was uncertain whether they were due to pain, pleasure, or some impossible and wonderful combination of the two. Miss Adler clucked soothingly, stroking the moisture away with her thumb.

With delicate gestures and a care that set Harriet's heart fluttering in a most juvenile way, Miss Adler gently ran a moist flannel over the most prominent of the raised welts, soothing and cooling them before running the towel along the inside of Harriet's legs, both covered in copious amounts of her own arousal. She laid a soft blanket on the bed and gestured for Harriet to curl up there once she had been cleaned.

As Miss Adler bent down to unlace her corset, she looked into Harriet’s eyes. "It has been a long and productive session, Harriet. I think it would be ideal if you spent the night here. I shall stay as well, in case you have any further needs that require attending to."

The way her voice rumbled at that last statement was most emphatically _not_ in Harriet's imaginings. It was clear that Miss Adler was inviting her to something more involved than their prior arrangement of disciplinarian and misbehaved young woman. She bit her lip, attempting to form her thoughts into a reasonable and coherent thread.

"But what of Miss Kate?" Harriet had been under the impression that Miss Adler and Miss Kate were lovers, using the Home as a clever cover. She studied Miss Adler's face as she pondered her answer.

"Kate and I have an arrangement, but it is not necessarily exclusive. Harriet, I am certain you have taken notice that you are significantly older than most of the girls here, and you seem to require far more..." She paused, delicately pursing her lips. "Attention. Some women of our nature simply cannot be reformed. Rather than hide away, rather than deny our true selves, we have learnt to embrace it, away from prying eyes. Perhaps, Harriet, it is time for you to join us as a permanent member of this household?" Miss Alder reached out and stroked one delicate finger along the curve of Harriet's jawline, the gesture somehow both delicate and forceful all at once.

Harriet's eyes grew wide as she began to comprehend the implications. An equal member of the household, no longer a wasted girl to be saved, but a woman confident in her own identity. But then, would it mean the end of the discipline sessions?

Miss Irene had always been good at reading Harriet's expressions, and tonight was clearly no exception. She laughed, a gentle trilling sound so different from her usual seductive chuckle.

"You would merely have to ask, Harriet. No more needing to act out in an attempt to get in trouble. And perhaps, no more giving yourself over to the drink? If you need to get lost in your own head, if you need to succumb, to give control to a greater power, let it be me rather than the bottle."

Sucking on her lower lip, Harriet nodded. Miss Adler's eyes glinted with mischief, and as if giving in to a greater impulse, she leaned forward and pressed her rouged lips to Harriet's dry, swollen ones. Miss Adler had never kissed her before, and there was something endearingly innocent about it. Harriet had no illusions - it was clearly a calculated move, and yet it shattered her heart nonetheless.

"Yes. Yes, Miss Adler."

"I think, Harriet, that you might begin to call me Irene. So long as I am not holding the crop."

 _Irene_. It had a lovely ring to it.


End file.
